


Be The Same

by Firenza



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Death, Faeries - Freeform, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Implied Torture, Kidnapping, Magic, Mass Murder, Mythology - Freeform, Reaper - Freeform, Royalty, Stone Golums, dryad, elemental creatures, language barriers, mythical AU, nymph
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-17 22:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15471720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firenza/pseuds/Firenza
Summary: After a greedy millionaire destroys Sean's home, he takes the dryad hostage in his home and forces him to work in his greenhouses. When he's summoned to eat dinner with the millionaire and his sister, he discovers secrets about his captors that will shatter everything he thought he knew.Nothing will ever be the same.





	1. Attic

The top floor of the manor was dark and dank. Sean hated every inch of it. There was no sort of greenery anywhere. No flowers, no ferns, not even a blade of grass. It all was dusty, old furniture and pictures stacked haphazardly everywhere. The dust stuck in his lungs, making him cough. Only one corner of the attic was dedicated to him. It had a small cot, wooden dresser, and a single window. The window was both a solace and a torture. It allowed him to see outside into a beautiful forest, but it also taunted him, showing him the greenhouses where he was forced to work for the man who owned the house. 

It stung just to think about the man. He and his workers had destroyed Sean's home, killing all of his subjects, for a few acres of land where he would build another manor. _Another_ manor. That's two houses. It baffled Sean that someone would need more than one home, especially when their first one was as nice as it was. The manor he was trapped in was exquisite. The owner had spared no expense on decorating the four floored house. From the few rooms he'd seen, each one was more beautiful than the last. But he knew there were secrets hiding behind the gold trimmed walls. Nobody was could be this rich without having some secrets.

Sean plopped down onto the old cot. A cloud of dust sprung into the air, sending him into another coughing fit. He'd been here for almost a full moon cycle and the dust still hadn't left. It annoyed him to no end. He waved the dust from his face and looked out the window. It was sunset. The sky was a blaze with oranges, reds, and pinks. He wanted nothing more than to paint it. Painting was a calming hobby of his he'd picked up back home in Septia. The forest where his brother ruled as a compassionate king; Where he and his friends would run through the trees pelting moss at each other; Where he knew everyone by name and they knew him. Here in this hell, he couldn't even tell you who the man who'd kidnapped him was. And he was sure that he didn't care to know him either.

A loud knock sounds from the door, sending Sean scrambling to his feet. He smooths out his fading green hair, trying to look at least somewhat presentable. A maid opens the door gently. She crosses the attic to him, hands him a note, then leaves without another word. He looks at the note in his hand. To his surprise it was written in his native Gaelic. He hardly understood the harsh English that everyone here spoke, so it was a welcome change to see words that he could understand. He wondered who here knew Gaelic. It wasn't exactly a common language used in the human world. 

 _"Dear Mr, Dryad._ " Sean almost laughed at that. Whoever was writing this couldn't even be bothered to learn his name. " _You have been requested to join the master of the house, Mr. Damien Mayoras, and his sister, Mrs. Celine Fischbach, for dinner tomorrow night. Appropriate clothing will be brought to you at three-o'clock tomorrow afternoon."_ There was no signature, but it was easy enough to guess who wrote it. 

"Damien Mayoras..." He tested the name. It was full of strange sounds that he had never could have dreamed of pronouncing. He just hoped he wouldn't have to address him by name. Or speak at all. He set the note on the windowsill. The sky outside was growing darker by the moment. His eyes landed on the dark forest outside. He wondered how many dryads were in that forest, if there were any at all. Had they all escaped to another home somewhere else? Sean hoped they had. He grimly wondered if there were any other Majik creatures trapped here.

He laid back on the bed and stared out the window, watching as the sun dipped below the horizon. Sleep was hard to come by these days from the uncomfortable bed and homesickness, and he was grateful when he finally slipped into its embrace.

 

”Rise and shine, dryad!” A voice cuts through his half asleep mind. Sean sits up and blinks his eyes open. Pale light shines through the window, showing that it’s still quite early. The man in front of him has a small grin on his face. His blond hair is neatly combed into a strange sticky-uppy style. The butler was familiar to him. He worked in the greenhouses as well and escorted him everyday when he was needed.

Sean pushed to his feet and stretched his arms above his head. The muscles in his back popped, releasing the tension from sleeping on such an uncomfortable surface. 

The butler didn’t move, instead he leaned against one of the wooden beams supporting the ceiling. “We’ve still got some time.” His words meant next to nothing to Sean. They were just harsh gibberish. He seems to understand that the dryad couldn’t understand him. He frowns, “Ah, you don’t speak English do you?”

He caught a few words, but was unable to understand all of what he was saying. “English” he knew. It was the name of the language everyone here spoke. “You” was a way to address someone that you were speaking to. Nothing else made any sense to him. 

“No matter.” He points a finger into his chest, “Robin.” 

 _Robin?_   Was that his name? He should introduce himself then. He points to his chest, “Sean?”

The man brightens, glad that he was able to communicate a little, “Nice to meet you, Sean.” 

Sean offers him a small smile in return, still not understanding what he was saying. 

Robin seems to understand, “Oh, right,” he scratches the back of his neck. “We, ah, should get going. After you get dressed of course.” He turns around. 

Sean takes this opportunity to change, thoughts swarming his mind. The butler had never spoken to him before. Why now? Did it have something to do with his meeting with the master of the house later? Once he's changed into the more suitable work-clothes, he steps towards the door. Robin steps in front of him and leads him out of the attic. Sean had stopped wondering why he needed an escort to traverse the halls. He'd stopped wondering a lot of things.

He leads him down the twisting hallways of the manor. Each decorated more lavishly than the next. Red velvet carpet adorns the floor. Paintings of far away places and unfamiliar people hang from the walls. Flowers, real flowers, stand in vases and pots atop of expensive glass and wooden tables. Gold trimming lines the top and bottom of the walls. It's extravagant, unlike anything he could have ever dreamed of back home. Even now after a month of being trapped, he couldn’t help but gawk at the lavish decorations. But he forces himself to look past the glamour and see what it really was.

Tired servants, overworked and underpaid, scurry through the halls. They dust the already immaculately clean tables, repotted plants, and vacuum the spotless carpet. But behind the cheerful facade each one puts on, purple bags hung under their eyes, showing just how little sleep they all get.

No one pays Robin or Sean any attention as they make their way outside into the greenhouses. The short moments of early morning air chill his lungs. He breathes in deeply. Robin slows his steps, enjoying his moments of freedom just as much as Sean is. The dryad silently wonders if he was a Majik creature as well.  _How many others are trapped here?_

The air in the greenhouses is hot and heavy, just as it always is. The moisture clings to Sean’s light green skin. It's annoying to say the least, but there was nothing he could do about it so he kept his complaints to himself. Servants bustle around the room picking plants to serve in meals. 

Robin stops next to a tall, purple flower to examine the petals. He mutters quietly to himself as he brushes a finger down the stem of the flower. As he does, the petals are leached of their color. Sean watches dumbfounded as they wither and brown. Robin winks at him, then leads them back into the greenhouse where the exotic plants were kept. This greenhouse was filled with rare species of plants from all over the world. Tall cacti tower over smaller flowering plants. Pink ferns dot along the edges of the beds. And even with all of his knowledge, Sean couldn’t name a single one of them.

He got to work. His job was to heal any plants that looked sickly, and if there were none, to help the others grow. Other servants brushed past him, but they were only watering or replacing soil in the plant beds. There was no sign of any other Majik creatures anywhere. It only confirmed what he already knew. All of his people were dead. All of his friends, family. They were all gone because of a greedy rich man who wanted another house.

It was hard to focus on the work through his anger and the many questions that swarmed his mind. Why did Damien, the master of the house, want to meet with tonight? Did he do something wrong? Who was Robin? _What_ was Robin?

Soon enough it was lunch time, and he and the rest of the servants swarmed back into the house. Instead of going to the servant cafeteria with the others, he returns to his attic room where a plate of cooked vegetables and bland meat sits on his dresser. He hadn’t eaten anything for breakfast, so the food was a welcome gift. The plate is cleared soon enough and he set it back onto the dresser. 

An old clock hangs on the back wall of the attic. Despite its age, it kept excellent time. Currently it shows that it was almost 12:30. He sighed. Three hours until he could get any answers. He was starting to wonder if he really wanted answers to his questions. 

Glancing out the window, he notices the note from the night before. He picks it up gently and rereads it. “Cahleen? Celin?” He attempts to pronounce the woman’s name, but hers is even worse than her brother’s. Frustration claws at him. He wasn’t going to get anywhere without knowing English. If he couldn’t understand anyone, how was he supposed to learn any information that could help him escape? He throws the note down in frustration. Leaning against the wall, he stares out the window. Servants bustle around the yard below. They clip at hedges, transforming them into elaborate characters. Horses and dogs, and men riding those horses. Sean watches them longingly. He wishes that he could be outside, not in the hot, heavy greenhouses.

Another glance at the clock tells him it’s almost 1:00. Two more hours. He lays back on the bed and stares at the ceiling. He waves his hand, an action that usually would sprout small ferns or flowers no matter where he was. But not here. He’d grown so weak in the past month that he couldn’t use even the most basic of his powers. More frustration rolled though him. Even the youngest dryads could do this. He pushed away the anger and focused. He focused on his hands, on the ceiling, on what he wanted to grow. It took a few minutes of straining, but a small carnation popped out. It withered away as soon as he released his power, but the small victory gave him hope.

The clock now read 1:45. He kept trying. By 2:30, he managed to grow more than a few flowers. But he was exhausted from straining too hard. He relaxed against the headboard of the bed. The withered flower petals float down from the ceiling like rain. He laid there until a loud knock came from the door. Whoever it was didn’t wait for a response, they just barge in.

Robin walks into view with a small pile of clothes in his arms. He set the clothes in front of Sean with a satisfied smile.

Sean holds up a white shirt. It was finer than anything he’d ever seen before, made of something unimaginably soft. A pair of stiff, black pants were next, followed by a light green jacket. 

The butler doesn't say anything, just smiles softly at Sean. He pulls out a small silver device and holds it out. Sean gingerly takes it. He quizzically looks at Robin. The man gestures to his ear where the same device sits. Sean holds the device up to his ear, still unsure of what to do with it.

It takes a bit more silent back and forth between them before Robin takes the device back. He places it gently into Sean’s right ear. A screech explodes from it and he claps his hands over his ears. It doesn’t help, but the god-awful noise stops soon enough.

”Is it working?” Robin asks.

Sean blinks. He could understand him? How was that possible? Was it the device he'd given him? “I-I think? Wh-what is this?” 

Robin’s face lights up, “Excellent! Finally we can talk, but first get changed. Master Damien wishes to speak with you.”


	2. Office

Once Sean was changed into the surprisingly comfortable clothes Robin had brought him, he plopped on the bed. Crossing his arms he glared at the butler. Robin only raised an eyebrow in response. Finally, Sean decided to just ask, "What are you?"

Robin chuckles, "I had a feeling you were going to ask that." When Sean doesn't laugh, he leans back against a support beam, "The truth is, I have no goddamn idea."

"What?" Sean shoots to his feet, latching onto his powers to call plants around his feet. The attempt drains a large amount of energy and he releases his power as it doesn't do anything anyway. He clenches a fist, "You're saying that you-you can _kill_ something with just a touch and you have no idea what you are?"

"Well, do you have any ideas?" The butler's face shifts into something emotionless, and he steps forward to stand eye to eye with Sean. 

The dryad opens and closes his mouth like a fish, then presses his lips together tightly. He had an inkling to what Robin was, if there was even a name for something like him. Searching the back of his mind only brought up one idea. Sean swallows hard, "Reaper..?" But it wasn't possible for him to be one. All of them were killed after a few rouge Reapers massacred entire cities. They slowly poisoned the Humans, destroying them from the inside out. 

Robin's eyes widened in surprise. He tightens his jaw, "I can't tell if that supposed to be an insult or not." Even when Reapers were alive, they were looked down upon. They were the embodiment of death itself after all. To be called one was one of the worst insults of all.

"No! Not at all," Sean shakes his head, "Not at all. You-you did ask," He looks away, fully expecting Robin to lay a hand on him and kill him then and there.

Instead, a chuckle rings around the room. Robin's eyes gleam in amusement. "I'm not going to kill you. And you're right, I-I am a Reaper. Don't ask how, _that_ I don't know," The gleam in his eyes fades as he confirms Sean's theory.

Sean looks up to meet his eyes and a small smile cracks across his face as well. A short laugh escapes his lips. "Huh... I would have never thought..."

"Most people don't. But then again, most people don't know," He clears his throat, "We should get going. Master Damien wishes to introduce you to his sister, Celine, before we all dine."

 _That's how it's pronounced._ Sean thinks. "We all? Who else is going to be there?" 

"All of the Majiks in the manor." Robin replies as if it's the most normal thing in the world. To him, it may just be.

But Sean's breath catches in his throat at the thought of _more_ Majiks here. How many others were locked away? How many Nymphs were stuck away from water? How many Dryads from plants? How many Sirens and Merfolk were stuck in their painful humanoid forms because they couldn't have access to deep water? His stomach twists at the thought. 

Robin leads him from the stuffy attic, down a hall the opposite way than he's used to. This hall is about the same as the others he's been in. Less servants seem to be bustling around than earlier in the day. Sean wonders if it's because they have other tasks to do, or if it's because they are preparing for the dinner with the head of the house. Like before, and every other time he passes by, no one pays them any mind. It's a strange feeling, back home people, even his friends, would bow as he passes. He never liked it, but it was still strange to be without the small familiarity. Sean is lead to a a pair of two large, mahogany doors. He wants to pause, to press his hands to them and suck the little bit of energy from the dying wood that he can, but Robin gracefully opens the doors before he can do anything.  

The room is large, bigger than any of the other rooms he'd been in. Although there weren't many to compare this to. A large, also mahogany, desk sits in the middle of the back wall. A plush, red velvet chair pushed under it. Just like in the halls, the walls of this room are decorated with elaborate paintings of unfamiliar places. Or at least most of them are unfamiliar. He stops in his tracks as his eyes land on a painting of a forest that sends an ache straight to his heart. It was a clearing near the center of the forest. In the middle of the clearing were two intertwined trees. Their trunks twisted around each other in a perfect spiral. They were the trees of his late parents, the former rulers of Septia. Another pang rolls through his heart as he realizes that _he_ painted this scene. It was one of his first creations. He wondered how it ended up here.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Sean whips around to face a man with deep brown eyes. His black hair is neatly swept back, held in shape with a gel-like substance. His suit is pristine, black with a small white rose on the lapel. Every part of him screams at how fake he is. He leans on a black cane with a shining silver handle. Even though the man seems to radiate warmth and kindness, Sean can't bring himself to trust him. He _had_ after all been responsible for the death of everyone he loved. He extends a hand, "I'm Damien, the head of the household, if you haven't already figured that out."

Reluctantly, Sean shakes the man's hand. "Pleasure," He says through gritted teeth. 

Damien smiles, his grin as warm and fake as the rest of him. He gestures to a leather chair near the desk. Robin had already settled into the chair next to it and was looking quite comfortable. "Please, take a seat. Celine should be along shortly."

Sean sits in the chair hesitantly, as if expecting it to spring to life and eat him. The chair does no such thing. Not that he was actually expecting it to. Nope, not at all.

Damien takes a seat at the chair behind his desk. He sets his cane down with a loud clatter, "Now I suppose I should warn you about my sister. She can tend to be a bit... ah... eccentric when it comes to things like you."

Anger pools in his stomach as he calls him a "thing". As if he was just a possession to be bargained with. He shoves it down remembering his most basic lessons from back home.  _Never show fear. Never show weakness. And most of all, never show anger._

Robin, however, is not as good at hiding his emotions as Sean. His whole body tenses for a split second before relaxing as he bites his lip.

"Now, I'm sure you have questions, dryad," Damien continues, not paying any attention to Robin. "And I will answer them as best as I can. But first, you have to do something for me." His voice finally betrays his true intentions as he smirks. It drips with want and greed.

"And what would that be?" Sean asks.

Damien smiles, pleased at his cooperation. "Answer a few of my own questions," His eyes gleam, as if he's already won. It makes Sean sick to see someone with so little regard for other life think he can get away with what he's doing. Damien takes the dryad's silence as an affirmation to continue, "What is a dryad's weakness?" 

Unable to hold it back, Sean scoffs, "That's your question?"

He nods, "Answer the question, please." Suddenly his expression grows dark, "And don't even think about trying to trick me. I _will_ know."

Sean's throat tightens, "I wasn't planning on it," He squeaks out. He clears his throat, and tries to appear casual, "M-mostly the same as Humans, but without vegetation we can grow weak."

"Interesting..." Damien mutters, pressing his fingers together in a steeple position. He's silent for a moment before he raises his eyes again, "So, were you affected by the lack of plants in your quarters?"

"Y-yes," He stammers, humiliated at the weakness he was showing.  _Never show weakness._ His father's voice echos through his head. Shame creeps up on him, eating at him. He'd failed his family in more ways than one, and he couldn't even honor the most basic of his teachings. 

He doesn't have a lot of time to wallow in his self-pity, because only moments later the wooden doors burst open. A woman with jet-black hair stands in the doorway. Her long black dress trails against the floor as she stalks into the room. Sean assumes her to be Damien's sister, Celine. Unlike her brother, she's incredibly easy to read. Frustration rolls off her in waves, causing Sean to sink back into his seat slightly in an escape attempt. She has the same dark eyes as her brother, but where his are warm, hers are cold as ice. Those cold eyes hardly pass over the dryad as she glides towards her brother's desk.

Damien stands to greet her, a fake smile stretching across his face. "Hello, Celine. It's nice to see you again."

"Damien," She dips her head slightly in a slightly mocking bow. If her brother cares, he doesn't show it. Celine turns to Sean and her icy eyes meet his, sending fear spiraling through his veins. He must unknowingly show the emotion, because her lips perk up in a twisted grin. "Is this one of the dryads you were telling me about?" 

"It is," Damien answers. 

Sean has the urge to hide his face. It made him sick to think about his own people, trapped here just as he was. 

She steps forward to look over him, but Sean stands forcing her to look _up_ at him. A tactic to show that he wasn't afraid of her. She doesn't seem annoyed, if anything it amuses her. "What is your name?"

He holds his surprise back. She was asking for his name? He wonders if it's a ploy to make him feel safer, or if she's genuinely curious. "Sean," He replies.

"Sean..." His name rolls of her tongue smoothly. In her voice, it sounds like a spell. She turns to Damien, "Can I experiment with him yet?"

Damien shakes his head, "Not yet. See how dinner goes then I'll decide."

Sean's breath catches in his throat. What was going to happen at dinner? He can only imagine that it isn't anything good. Why would all of the Majiks in the household be invited? His heart sinks, something terrible was going to happen tonight. Every sense he had was screaming at him to get the hell out of the manor and run off into the night. But there was a reason Robin, a  _Reaper,_ was always with him, and it was for that exact purpose. But why would he, someone with no worth to anyone anymore, need such high protection? He had so many questions, and he could only hope that they would be answered at whatever this dinner was.


	3. Ballroom

Sean had been in a fair share of ballrooms in his life. Being the brother of the king, he was forced to attend many parties and banquets alongside his family. Since he was a rather sociable person, he'd never minded having to go to them. Some he even found himself truly enjoying. Most were lavishly decorated, filled to the brim with paintings of the host's ancestors. So when he was escorted into Damien's ballroom, he was not impressed at all. It was rather bland, the walls a pale cream with hardly any decor. Tables with vases of freshly plucked flowers were set neatly in rows across the floor. Many others were crowed around the room, speaking to each other in hushed tones. They glanced nervously at Damien and Celine as they glided through the room. Damien shook hands with many of the people around the room. Celine, true to character, ignored everyone and bee-lined to her seat at the front of the room.

Only Robin stayed by Sean's side as the siblings departed. The Reaper seemed nervous, feeling the tension in room. Sean didn't blame him. Every single person in the room was a Majik, and all of them were scared. The soft drone of voices softened to silence slowly as Damien stood next to his sister. The grin on his face as fake as the flower on his suit.

"Welcome! Welcome! I understand that many of you are confused, and I assure you, everything will be answered soon," His voice carries through the room with practiced ease. A few people scoff quietly, knowing that none of their questions would ever be answered. "We have a special guest with us tonight, and he is very eager to meet you all. Unfortunately, he will not be able to join us until later since he is a bit... tied up at the moment. So, let us eat up, and be merry." He waves his hand and a flurry of servants flood from hidden doors in the walls. Some carry covered plates of food and set them onto the table, while others fill glasses with a deep, red wine. 

They nervously file into the seats. Sean never takes his eyes off of the two raven-haired siblings at the front of the room, and specifically chooses a seat so he can watch them. Robin sits next to him, lightly drumming his fingers against his thigh. Anxious mummers drift through the room as the servants whip the coverings off the trays, revealing their meal. The woman on the other side of Sean pokes at the fish on her plate as if it were still alive. Blue markings snake up and down her arms, marking her as a Nymph. She shakes her head, and slumps against the back of her chair. He knows better than to ask her if she's alright. 

The fourth person at the table swears loudly, catching the other's attention. She shakes her grey hand like she burned it.  _A Golum?_ Sean can't help but watch her in wonder. He'd never met, let alone, seen a Golum before. They had the ability to harden their skin at will, basically turning it into impenetrable stone. There were few things that could break their skin in that state. The Golum raises her head and lets out a bitter laugh, "How stupid does he think we are?"

The Nymph raises an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"He brings us all here after destroying our homes, killing the ones we love, and giving us no other option. Then he holds this- this- whatever this is and thinks we'll forget what he's done!" She crosses her arms over her chest. For a moment, her eyes grow sad, "He killed everyone I've ever cared about. My family, friends, my husband..." 

"Don't ever forget that," The words are out of Sean's mouth before he can stop them. She raises her eyes to look at him. "You're not the only one he's hurt. And you aren't the last. We'll find a way to get back at him. We _have_ to."

She smirks, "I'm Amy. Amy Nelson."

"Sean McLoughlin. Pleasure to meet you." 

"My name is Signe Hansen," The Nymph says shyly, as if she shouldn't be speaking.

"Robin Torkar." A heavy silence falls over them. Robin scoffs softly, "How the hell did we get here..." He looks down at the meal on his plate with disinterest. The others felt the same. No one felt much like eating.

"I've been asking myself that since I got here," Signe says, venom dripping from her voice.

Sean leans back in his chair, his lips stretching into a frown, "I can think of a few ways." He runs a hand through his fading green hair, "Do any of you know anything about this special guest?" Robin and Amy shake their heads.

"I heard something, but it might not be related," Signe says, "The other night, I was in the kitchens and I heard a few servants complaining about having to take care of a dryad in the basement. Although if he's a special guest, I don't know why they'd be keeping him there."

Sean's ears perk up at the mention of a dryad. Even in his time here, he’d never seen another dryad. Hell, he hadn’t even known there were other Majiks here before today. Hopeful that the dryad is someone he knew, he smiled softly. The hope dies quickly as he remembers his forest ablaze with fires from Flame-bearers and the humans alike. The stench of burned flesh hung heavily in the air. People tried running for cover, only to be shot when they stepped past the tree line. And all Sean could do was watch as his friends and family called for help even though there was no salvation. No one knew why they were being attacked. Septica was a peaceful land, it's residents had only been involved in one battle though out their history. Before this attack at least.

Guilt ripples through him as he remembers his brother, Malcolm, stepping forward to negotiate with the humans, only to be shot in the chest. He remembers the rage that powered him as he tore through the gunmen. Red filled his sight and the only thing he could think about was revenge. Then, he himself was shot. Just in the leg, nowhere vital, but it was enough to bring him down. He was knocked out and the next thing he knew he was in at the manor.

A loud clap breaks him from his thoughts. He blinks rapidly as the world around him comes back into focus. Robin has a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, you okay, man?" He asks.

He nods, "Yeah- yeah. I'm okay. I'm okay." The words are more to himself than they are to the others. For his sake, and everyone else's, he had to be okay. None of them push any farther, seeing that he doesn't want to talk about what happened.

Amy clears her throat, "So, Robin?" He meets her eyes, "What's your class? I can tell what everyone here is, but you."

It wasn't meant to be an offensive question, but the look of hurt on the Reaper's face would say otherwise. He down at the, probably cold, fish on his plate. "I-" He takes a breath, "Please, don't hate me for this..." He takes a flower from the vase on the table. With a single touch, it withers and crumbles to dust in his hand. Amy gasps, clearly not expecting that. Signe just stares in horror. 

"You're a Reaper?" Signe's words are almost just a breath they're so quiet. Robin nods, hiding his face in shame. It's Sean's turn to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He doesn't relax like he hoped he would. 

"Damn..." Amy mutters. 

Not raising his head, Robin asks, "You don't hate me, do you?"

Amy barks out a laugh, "Are you kidding? Of course not!" 

Robin raises his head and stares at her in surprise, obviously not used to that reaction. "But I-"

"Robin," Sean cuts him off, "Nobody cares that you're a Reaper. If anything, we can use that against them." He gestures with his head towards the front of the room at Damien and Celine.

Anger fills his eyes, "I'm not something to be used!" He snaps. " _You_ might not care about taking someone's like, but maybe _I_   do. Even if they're monsters, let someone else do it. 'Cause I'm not going to."

Sean retracts his hand from his shoulder. Robin was right. Killing someone was a big deal, and not everyone could muster up the courage for it, even if their life depended on it. "I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have said that." The Reaper nods in response, hardly hearing him. Sean mentally curses himself. He'd screwed up his relationship with one of the only friends- no, allies- he'd made. He wasn't expecting Robin to forgive him.

Long minutes of heavy silence pass as no one feels like talking after Robin's outburst. Perhaps, they're all just scared they'll make him mad again. Sean pushes the food around on his plate, occasionally eating a bite or two. He was hungry, yes, but he wouldn't admit it. He wouldn't give in and eat the food that these monsters were serving them. 

Their silence is broken when Damien claps loudly from the front of the room. Everyone turns their heads to look at him. The man smiles, something he does way too often for Sean's liking, "I have just received word that out guest is finally ready to meet us. Bring him in!" He waves his hand to the side of the room and a door opens. Four armed guards enter the room, dragging someone in between them. The guards block Sean's view of the man, and he can't tell what he looks like. They drag him to the front of the room and hoist him up between Damien and Celine. Sean's heart stops as he sees the man's face. It's bloodied and bruised, his green skin way too pale. His blue eyes hold nothing but despair. But it can't be him. He got shot. He watched him _die._  

Damien's smile turns wicked as he displays the man to the crowd. They all seem to hold a collective breath as he announces, "Everyone give a warm welcome to Dryad King Malcolm McLoughlin!"


	4. Nowhere

The world melted away as Damien confirmed Sean's fears. The broken man he was seeing _was_ his brother. Everything swirled around him in a meaningless void. Voices and faces had no meaning anymore. All that was left was Malcolm and Sean. Two brothers separated through a monster with horrible ambitions. Nothing felt real. He'd watched him  _die._ He'd watched him get shot through the chest. How had he survived? At the same time, he wondered the same about himself. 

Slowly, the world came back to focus. The ballroom was still at a standstill, anticipating Damien's next move. The man wasn't speaking, but he still had everyone in the room wrapped around his finger. The smug smirk pasted on his face showed just how long he'd been waiting for this. No one would dare oppose him. Or so he thought.

A woman across the room stands, drawing all eyes to her. An iridescent wing pokes out from the back of her tunic. There's a short stub where the other should be. A sick feeling rises in Sean's stomach. Cutting a faerie's wing was one the worst possible things anyone could do. It would result in either an instant death or a horrible curse that would make your life a living hell. Damien must not have been the one to cut it even though Sean was sure he would have delighted in it. The faerie raises her hand and shouts something in Fae, the language of the faeries. Around the room, three more faeries stand, each with one of their wings sliced off. 

The first faerie flicks her red hair behind her shoulder and stares directly at Damien, "We Faeries will not stand for this treatment of Dryads." The three other faeries join at her side. "We ask that you release King Malcolm, or you will face the consequences."

Celine stands, looking quite amused, "And what would those consequences be, Miss Pansino?"

"I'll show you," The faerie smirks. She raises her hands and begins to recite a spell. The other faeries do the same. Their chanting grows louder and louder as a bright light surrounds them. Celine doesn't look bothered, as if she thinks she's protected from a faerie curse. The light shoots out from around them and right into Celine's torso. The woman stumbles back, hunched over. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, the light shoots from Celine back to the faeries. Surprised, the faeries can do little more than try to dive out of the way. All except for one. The first faerie holds her ground and absorbs the rebounding spell. She folds over and collapses to the ground, unmoving. 

"Rosanna!" A black haired faerie slides on his knees next to her. He bends his head down, checking her pulse. His head whips up to face Celine, his dark brown eyes full of fury. "You killed her!" The faerie shouts. Malcolm bows his head, sagging against the floor. This wasn't the first time someone had died for him, and Sean figured it wouldn't be the last.

Celine hardly shrugs, "It was in self-defense, Mr. Sharp. She was going to hurt _me_."

"You deserve so much more than just being _hurt_ ," He snarls. The black haired faerie picks up Rosanna's body and the other two faeries move to stand at his side. They turn in unison and walk from the ballroom without another word. 

Damien and Celine watch them go, not making any attempt to stop them. There wasn't anywhere they could go. It was almost impossible to leave the manor grounds, and nowhere in the manor was safe. How long would they live after this? It was hard to even guess. An amused grin stretches across Celine's face, "Would anyone else like to try?" The Majiks across the room huddle back into their chairs, trying not to be seen. After seeing what happened to the faerie, no one wanted to tempt fate. This only makes the wicked woman laugh at their fear.

"Now that we have that cleared up, let us get onto the... main event," Damien says. He turns to face the Dryad next to him, "Now you've seen what I have accomplished," He waves an arm across the room, "You can tell me where it is."

A bit of the fire Sean knew was in Malcolm returns. He glares up at the man in front of him, "How many times must I say this: I _cannot_ tell you." 

Damien frowns, "Pity, maybe a bit of incentive will help?" He snaps his fingers. 

Suddenly, Robin stands and hoists Sean up by his arm. The Dryad sputters in confusion, not knowing what to make of the situation. Robin leads him to the front of the ballroom, holding his elbow. "I honestly don't want to do this, Sean," He murmurs in his ear, "But I don't have any other choice." 

Sean meets his brother's eyes. They're wide in shock, obviously not expecting to see him here. His lips move, forming words that Sean can't understand. Robin shoves him forward with just enough force to be considered rough. There didn't seem to be any part of the Reaper that wanted to be manhandling him like this, and Sean trusted him. After his outburst earlier, there was no way he would do anything to him or Malcolm. Right?

Robin pushes the Dryad to stand in front of his brother. For a long, long moment, nobody speaks. The ballroom is silent. A heartless chuckle breath the silence. Damien stands next to Robin and glowers down at Malcolm. " _This_ is your incentive. Where. Is. It?"

The former Dryad king doesn't respond. His eyes sweep over Sean, taking in the sight of his malnourished brother. He wasn't much better. Now that he was up close, Sean could see bruises littered across his too pale skin. Blood from unseen cuts stains patches of the threadbare clothing he wore. The thought of what he might have been through made Sean gag. Malcolm whispers something, but it was too quiet for him to hear. He bends down and sets a hand on his shoulder. "H-how did you survive?" Sean whispers.

"The same way you did, dartir. My tree is still standing." He leans into Sean's touch. Probably the only friendly contact he'd had in a while. 

Sean shakes his head, "My tree is gone..." He remembered what it felt it like when they cut it down. It was like something in him snapped, or a piece of him was torn out. Dryads can survive without their trees. It makes life much more unpleasant, but they can live. On the other hand, a Dryad cannot die if their tree is still standing. Why he hadn't thought of that scenario with his siblings, he did not know.

Damien clears his throat. "While this is a touching reunion, I would really like to hear the answer to my question," He growls, clearly annoyed that he was being ignored. 

"What is it that you're looking for?" Sean asks. He stands and faces Damien, meeting him eye to eye. The man glowers in response. Malcolm mutters a soft warning, but it dies halfway through as he sees there is no stopping his brother.

"I'm assuming you know what the Dryadic Elixir is, don't you?" Damien asks smugly. 

Sean stiffens, unable to hide his surprise. "Why the hell are you searching for _that?_ " The Dryadic Elixir is the most powerful potion in the Majik world, giving whoever drinks it unspeakable power. The elixir was originally brewed by a Nymph who wished to conquer the world. They were caught, as the potion broke the Universal Laws that were set in place in case of events like this. The McLoughlin Dryads of Septia were put in charge of protecting the recipe as it could, somehow, not be destroyed. It's location was entrusted to each ruler that Septia had, but each ruler also had a curse put upon them. They physically were not able to speak, write, or even gesture about the location of the recipe. Malcolm literally _could not_ tell him where it was.

Damien smirks, "I'll let you figure that out. Although, you won't have long to do it."

The Dryad raises an eyebrow.  _What the hell does that mean?_  

"Last chance, dryad. Where is the elixir?" Damien turns back to Malcolm. The smugness in his voice is replaced with fury, his eyes burning with the intensity of the sun. 

Malcolm hangs his head, "Gah don, dartir." His breath catches just as Sean realizes that the device Robin gave him earlier wasn't translating his words. Was it because it wasn't the Gaelic used by Humans? "Ni futh lion mi mainachtan."

Tears prick in the corners of Sean's eyes. Why was he apologizing to him? It wasn't like this was going to harm him. But that couldn't be farther from the truth. The realization slams into him like a ton of bricks. No wonder he had a Reaper with him at all times. Robin wasn't a guard. He was an executioner. Damien knew that Malcolm couldn't tell him where the elixir was and he was going to punish him for it. 

His brother raises his head and meets Sean's eyes. Tears roll down his cheeks. He knows it too. Either someone told him what was going to happen, or he figured it out himself. "I cannot tell you." His breaks as he surveys his brother or what could be the last time.

"Very well. Mr. Torkar, you know what to do." Damien almost seems gleeful as he gestures to Robin. Sean turns to face him, avoiding his eyes as to not make it any harder on him.

Robin hesitates before stepping forward. His hand shakes as he reaches it out to lay it on the side of Sean's neck. It's clammy with sweat, showing just how nervous he is. Finally, Sean meets his eyes. The Reaper's eyes shine with emotions he won't let through anywhere else. He doesn't want to do this. His outburst earlier was genuine. Sean can see that now. Any doubt he had is replaced with pity. 

Cold fear seizes his heart as he realizes that this was the end for him. He was going to _die_. He didn't want to die. This wasn't how this was supposed to end. He was supposed to escape with all of the Majiks trapped here. That faerie wasn't supposed to be killed by her own spell trying to save Malcolm. Malcolm shouldn't even be here. They should be back in Septia- home- worrying about the mundane problems in life, not here staring Death itself in the face. Sean wants to run but he finds his feet rooted into the ground. 

"Any last words, Mr. McLoughlin?" 

At this point he's not even surprised that he actually knows his name. He's too numb to do anything. But he manages to find his voice. His mind can hardly comprehend the Irish Gaelic being translated, and instead of struggling with the language he yells in his native tongue, "Ni lia dan bos an ren!" 

Warmth is leached from his neck, running like water flowing through a hole from where Robin is pressing on his neck. As the heat fades from his body, his vision grows spotty and his knees weaken. He falls to the ground. The pressure from Robin's hand disappears, but the warmth still spills from him. Someone grabs onto his arm, but his eyes are fluttering closed and he can't tell who it is. It feels like he's falling. Like a hole opened up beneath him and sucked him in. There's no bottom, he's just falling forever. Or at least until he loses all feeling and every part of him goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I created a bit of Dryad Gaelic on my own. Here are the translations. They're all similar to the Irish results that I got on Google translate.
> 
> dartir- brother  
> Gah don- forgive me  
> Ni futh lion mi mainachtan- do not hate me for my failure  
> Ni lia dan bos an ren- do not let us die in vain


End file.
